


The Tea Party

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Arkham Asylum, F/M, Friendship, Tea Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29225019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: Poison Ivy is escaping after a wild food fight in the canteen and find a new inmate in the botanical garden.
Relationships: Pamela Isley & Jervis Tetch
Kudos: 2





	The Tea Party

The red-haired beauty wandered through the deserted forecourt of the asylum and snorted softly under her breath. Escape was rarely the best choice, but on that cursed evening there was simply no viable alternative for her. Ivy growled bitterly. What were these sacks of meat all thinking, especially the male ones? The evening meal in the way too small canteen had escalated completely. After she got into a little discussion with Edward Nygma about the tasteless flower decoration of the tables, Jonathan Crane immediately got involved and gave his unasked opinion. When Harley, Harvey and Victor got on board, it was all lost. The botanist probably still had scraps of food in her beautiful hair. Her fingers slid through the long strands, actually found a loose spaghetti. She pulled out the sticky noodle in disgust and flicked it to the floor regardless. Absolutely disgusting. Ivy shook her head slowly, just stepped faster in the direction of the botanical garden. Normally she was not allowed to visit it on her own, but today it was more than safe to take this small risk and to be honest: who would stop her anyway right now? The guards were all still busy calming the food fight in the canteen. The redhead pushed open the glass doors of the greenhouse and took a deep breath. It was liberating. More than liberating. The air was saturated with the clear, filtered air of her favourites. Quieter than before, she slipped into the entrance area and let her fingers hover over the first tendrils on the sides. Fortunately, her offspring were doing well. In particular, the facility's caretaker went to great lengths to maintain the garden. A useful person. How surprising. Almost delightful. She felt the flowers and roots begin to tremble at her touch. The botanist smiled wickedly, breathed a little kiss on a loose leaf. She whispered softly: "Sweet little thing. You will grow big and strong one day, will you?” She released the sheet from her grip and strolled deeper into the long corridors. The background noise was impressive. Such a strong contrast to the typical noises from the penitentiaries. Ivy sighed softly and visibly relaxed. In this atmosphere she could completely forget all the trouble of the last hours. The redhead was just about to rest for a moment when she suddenly heard a low voice near by. She frowned and walked leisurely around the corner. The source of the noise still seemed to be hiding somewhere in the branching corridors. The words were an incomprehensible murmur and very hard to understand. After a few steps, there was also the faint clatter of dishes. The botanist was completely perplexed at this moment, but also slightly curious. 

A few seconds passed before she finally found the stranger in the greenhouse. Pamela crossed her arms over her chest and examined the small man on the rusty bench in front of the bust. The blond, longer hair framed his boyish face and his contours were unusually gentle, almost delicate. Actually, the whole stature did not correspond to that of a powerful man, the small body size completed this impression. In addition to this realization, she immediately noticed the stubborn old fashion clothing. The green cloak was wrapped tightly around his narrow shoulders and the matching top hat sat a little at an angle on his head. He wore matching white leather gloves. Ivy bit her lower lip slightly. Jervis Tetch. She had overheard the guards' conversation when he was admitted in the facility. He was arguably obsessed with the story of Alice in Wonderland and had committed some unimaginable atrocities in adaptation to this book. Probably including kidnapping, rape and multiple murders. Another madman for the asylum. Ivy was just about to go the way back when the man's low voice nestled almost pleasant in her ear: "March hare, what's the point of saying this bad things? Naughty thing. We have to finish the tea first before we go back to these lewd rascals. If we go back at all. Maybe we'll just stay here and hide for the remaining eight months.” The botanist stopped dead in place, just sighed softly. That was expectable. How could it have been otherwise? There was a good chance that the young man would have trouble with the other inmates. It was his first stay in the clinic and this was always particularly tragic for most new inmates. Experienced patients weren't exactly squeamish. Luminaries like Jonathan Crane in particular broke inexperienced souls at lightning speed and the different villains had a perfidious joy in doing so. The redhead frowned. She had a big problem with the self-proclaimed Master of Fear. Jonathan was intelligent, no question about it and his expertise was certainly inexhaustible, but he went too far with his psychological games on some points. A large number of new patients had killed themselves because of him after less than five hours in the asylum. The older one always acknowledged this with a small smile, while the cleaning women cursed and had to work through the mess in the cells. Seen in this way, bets have often been made as to how long a newcomer would survive if he was put in the cell with the infamous Scarecrow. That the guards also took part in this spectacle made the botanist incredulous and very sick. The Arkham staff really wasn't interested in patient recovery - except perhaps some of the psychologists. She looked again at the young man on the bench.

After a while the redhead overcame her mental reservation and slowly sauntered towards the lonely inmate. At first he didn't seem to notice her. Ivy tried to crack up an honest smile and said carefully in his direction: “Hey. You're Jervis Tetch, I assume?” The addressee startled slightly, his eyes panicked like a deer. The botanist raised her hands soothingly and smiled a little more gently. The Mad Hatter relaxed only gradually, the opals still twitching wildly through the corridor. Apparently he was already planning his escape. Great. Two souls on the run from the large mob in the canteen. Pamela carefully came closer, made it clear to her counterpart that she did not want to harm him. As if in slow motion, she sat down next to him on the bench and continued softly: “Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Not all inmates here are barbaric fiends." Jervis looked down at his hands and played a bit with his fingers. After a short while he dared to look up, his blue eyes glittering slightly in the weak light. Finally he carefully lifted his fingers and ran two of them through Ivy's long hair. He mumbled cautiously: “My, my. You have such beautiful hair. As red as my queen's, but like silk and velvet. So beautiful. So pure. Cheshire Cat, just look. I don't even want to sew a hat for your head, that would completely disturb the aesthetics.” At first the botanist wanted to reject him more than harshly, but then quickly refrained from doing so. The expression in the blond's opals was strange. These did not contain any disreputable or even sexual intentions, as was always the case with such acts. The devotion and admiration for her hair seemed sincere. A short time later the young man added in a whisper: “What's your name? Tell me please. I need to know. The Hatter needs to know immediately. I've never seen such gentle beauty and your unique nature makes it perfect.” Pamela almost choked on her own spit. What had gotten into this guy? Or better: what got into her?

She didn't even know this man for two minutes. Nevertheless, he seemed to be familiar to her in a certain way and, contrary to her usual reason, she only smiled at his doing. His fingers were unexpectedly gentle with their easy play with the strands. Ivy replied muffled: “My name is Pamela Lillian Isley, but probably better known by my alias Poison Ivy. Eco-terrorist by trade.” The Mad Hatter smiled knowingly and only nodded slowly. He let his fingers slide out of her hair and turned away from her. The blond-haired man looked for something next to him on the bench for a moment, then suddenly held out a small white porcelain cup. It smelled suspiciously of black tea. The woman frowned, but picked up the cup and looked down at her moving reflection. Her greenish skin shimmered slightly in the pheromone-soaked halls of the botanical garden. The young man next to her whistled happily: “Hear, hear. Another participant in our small, private tea party. What a pleasure and beneficial surprise.” He took his own white service and swirled the black liquid a little, then drank the broth with relish. Ivy tried the tea too. It was bitter, but not in an unpleasant sense. Similar to a good coffee, but with a gentler after taste. The wonderland lover was certainly well read in the field and knew how to properly prepare tea. At least it tasted excellent. A certain silence fell between them, only interrupted by the low whirring of the insects around them. The redhead stretched a little and asked softly: “What brought you here in the first place, Jervis? You should be in the canteen for dinner. Not that it would bother me to enjoy your company here tonight.” To her surprise, the addressee slumped a little. The little figure appeared even a little smaller than before. The blond-haired man breathed his answer barely audibly: “They said to me that I shouldn't close my eyes tonight and if I do, the black man will get me out of the cell next to me. The lean man with the brown hair and the piercing eyes. After that I lost my appetite.”

Ivy gave a muffled sigh, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. He was talking about Jonathan. That was to be expected. So they had put Jervis in a cell with either Harvey or Edward, which were located right next to the Master of Fear. The botanist stroked the shiny porcelain. Both villains weren't exactly comfortable room mates for the first stay. Of course, that could no longer be changed. The redhead sat up and calmly replied: “That won't happen, Jervis. The so-called black man is also just a person in a silly scarecrow costume and he is locked in at night like everyone else. You don't have to worry, my dear.” The Mad Hatter blinked slightly, then sipped his tea in silence. He put the cup back on the saucer with a clatter and replied a bit lost: “What am I actually doing here? I should be outside and looking for my Alice. Now I'm going to spend eight months in these narrow corridors with other crazy people who don't even know how to make original English tea. It's sad. Almost to cry." Ivy clicked her tongue. At least the man seemed to understand that he was as mad as anyone else in the asylum and did not plead his sanity. The botanist crossed her legs, then replied calmly: “Perhaps you can convince some to learn, Jervis. Other inmates like me, for example. The tea tastes really fantastic and I would love to sit here with you more often.” The addressee perked up his ears. The cloudy eyes suddenly shone and a broad smile crept onto his unusually full lips. He refilled them both with some tea. While they were enjoying the second cup together, the loudspeakers suddenly rang out above them: “Jervis Tetch and Pamela Isley, return to your cells immediately. You have no business in the botanical garden. Especially you, Mrs. Isley, are not allowed there. You know the deal. Move!” The redhead groaned in annoyance and looked into the upper corner of the room. The small camera humming barely audibly, the red light glowed suspiciously. Without further ado, the woman rose and said quietly to Jervis: “We should go. If we don't act quickly, they'll drag us by the hair out of the greenhouse and refer us to an unpleasant electroshock therapy with the prison director Quincy Sharp.” The Mad Hatter nodded slowly, then took his picnic basket from under the bench. Where in the world had he found it? The young man carefully stowed the tea party utensils in the basket and pushed himself off the bench, still smiling happily. He took a few steps in the direction of the exit, then turned to Ivy and said happily: “Are you coming with me, Mrs. Isley? We don't have to walk the path alone and all of us would prefer your company on the way out. By the way, especially the Cheshire Cat is very fond of you. Maybe we can have tea together again tomorrow. This time in the canteen?” She couldn't help but smile again. Yeah, that wasn't a bad idea.


End file.
